Queen Molly: Molly Hooper Appreciation Week 2016 Fics
by LadySolitaire83
Summary: A collection of fics written for Molly Hooper Appreciation Week, which was held on 28 August - 3 September 2016. Each chapter contains a separate story. Please see notes at the beginning of chapters/stories for ratings and warnings.
1. Day 1

**DAY 1: A DAY IN THE LIFE**

 **28 August 2016**

 **Summary: Sherlock has other ideas for Molly's evening.**

 **A/N: Includes Sherlolly.**

 **Rating: T** **, for a couple of swear words and mildly suggestive scenes (*** _ **wink wink**_ ***).**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Molly yawned as she opened her front door. She yawned again as she dropped her keys in her old shallow marble bowl on the narrow table in the hall. She hung up her coat in the front closet and dropped her bag next to the couch before plopping herself down on it, causing Toby to yelp and jump from his spot in the middle of the couch. "Shit! Sorry, Toby!"

The cat only gave her a grumpy meow before he ran to her bedroom, where she was sure that he would resume his 'much-needed' nap.

Sighing, she sat back and toed off her shoes. She lifted her aching feet and rested them on the mahogany coffee table. "I'll deal with them later," she muttered to herself as she closed her eyes. "Nap first," she added with another yawn. "Just for five minutes."

Reluctantly opening her eyes, she fished her mobile out of her bag and set her nap alarm for 6.40pm. She stretched out on the couch and placed her mobile on the table.

She was out like a light after only a couple of deep breaths.

* * *

The blare of her alarm, as well as the heavy knocks on her front door, woke Molly from her nap. _How long did I sleep?_ she wondered as she sat up and silenced the alarm. Her eyes widened when she saw that it was already 7.08.

"Hello? Ms Hooper? Are you home?" asked a male voice that she only vaguely recognised. Her guest knocked again for good measure.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she slowly rose from the couch and shuffled towards the voice. "Who is it?"

"It's Angelo, from the restaurant. I'm Sherlock's friend."

 _Oh, right_ , she thought. _It's been a while since we ate at his restaurant. What's he doing here?_ She opened the door to a smiling, silver-haired man with a large brown bag in his hand. "Hello, Angelo."

"Sherlock ordered this for you," he said, thrusting the bag towards her.

Giving him a small smile, she hesitantly took the bag. "And what is this?" she wondered aloud as she slowly opened it. Her smiled brightened when the marvellous smell of penne arrabbiata wafted from the bag. Taking a deep whiff, she giggled as her stomach growled.

Angelo laughed good-naturedly. "Sherlock said you'd be too knackered to cook anything. Also said you'd need your favourite comfort food."

She looked up and narrowed her eyes at the restaurant owner. "He's still in Brussels. How did he even find out?"

Angelo shrugged. "He seemed to know so much about your day when he rang me. But he's Sherlock, you know? So I just took down his order." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey coat. "Perhaps he spoke with your supervisor or co-worker?"

"He must have," she replied with a nod. She made a mental note to ask Sherlock if he had spoken with Dr Stamford, who had chatted with her when he dropped by the morgue and the lab this afternoon. He was also the only one (besides Meena, of course) that commented on her sleepy and exhausted look. "Did he happen to mention a Dr Stamford when he rang?"

Angelo frowned and shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't remember him saying anything about any Stamfords. He only gave me the order and told me to bring it down at 7 o'clock. Said you'd be napping after arriving home from work and you'd be starving upon waking up."

Molly shook her head. " _Of course_ he knows that," she remarked.

Angelo only smiled and nodded knowingly. "Oh, please don't worry about paying," he added when she moved to get her wallet. "It's on the house."

She stared at him for a moment. "Er… Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course. I'll do anything for Sherlock Holmes. You see, he got me off a murder charge."

"Yes, I think I've heard about that." She grinned brightly at him. "Thanks for the free food."

"You're welcome! Enjoy your meal, Ms Hooper." He turned to leave and waved her goodbye. "Have a good night!"

"Thanks, Angelo! You too!"

She brought the bag to the kitchen and removed the styrofoam container. She shooed her cat away when he climbed on the worktop. "Toby, no." She turned towards his half-full food bowl and pointed at it. "You've got your food. This is mine. You don't like spicy Italian food anyway." She stuck her tongue out at her cat when he gave her a displeased meow.

She pulled out a folded piece of paper from underneath another container (which was labelled 'Insalata caprese'). She lifted herself up on the worktop and, with one eye on Toby, she opened the note. She smiled to herself as she examined it. "He must have written this on the Notes app and emailed it to Angelo, who must have printed it off himself," she muttered to herself. She looked up and locked eyes with Toby, who was watching her from his spot next to his food bowl. "Do you think Angelo read the whole thing before putting it in the bag?" Getting no response from the cat, she took a deep breath and began reading the note.

 ** _Molly Hooper,_**

 ** _Thank you for helping to clear my mind and to figure out how the sister accidentally killed her long-lost brother. Also please forgive me for keeping you up last night. Mike Stamford has assured me, though, that your lateness this morning won't affect the promotion that you've been eyeing––and that you deserve._**

 ** _I've asked Angelo to deliver your favourite dish from his restaurant once you've caught up (a bit) on sleep. It's a thank-you, an apology, and your first birthday present from me._**

 ** _I'll text you once my flight from Brussels lands in Heathrow (should be at 7.42, but the inebriated pilot might cause a delay). I've got more birthday presents for you, so please keep the penne arrabbiata warm. Feel free to finish the antipasto._**

 ** _Many happy returns, Molly._**

 ** _Yours,_**

 ** _Sherlock Holmes_**

Clutching the note to her chest, she glanced at the clock and hopped off the worktop. She put the styrofoam containers into the microwave oven to keep them warm and safe from Toby. She shut the microwave door and began to get ready for Sherlock's visit.

* * *

Freshly showered and changed into her favourite grey floral pyjama top and cropped bottoms, Molly checked on the food and took the styrofoam containers out of the microwave oven. She transferred the penne arrabbiata into a microwave-safe container and placed it back in, heating up the penne for two minutes before lowering herself to a chair. "Oh, wait!" she exclaimed as she straightened up and pulled forks out of her cutlery drawer. She grabbed the salad as she finally sat down.

She had just finished the appetizer when she heard a knock on her door. Smiling, she put her fork down and rose to take the penne out of the microwave oven. She set it on the table before she walked out of the kitchen to meet Sherlock.

She stopped in her tracks when the consulting detective entered the flat. Softly chuckling, she crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow at him once their eyes met. "Why did you knock if you're just going to pick my lock anyway?"

He shrugged and gave her a small smile. "I was being polite." He divested himself of his coat and scarf as he strode towards her and left them on her couch.

 _Shit. He's wearing the purple shirt of sex._ "So did the sister resist arrest? Or did she come quiet…ly?" Her voice trailed off and her pulse quickened when he came to a stop before her. The intensity in his eyes made her body tingle. "W-what are you doing?" she asked as he gently cupped her face in his hands.

"Many happy returns, Molly Hooper," he said before covering her mouth with his.

She was unsure if this was one of the other birthday presents he mentioned, but it only took her a moment to respond to his kiss. Immediately shutting her eyes, she uncrossed her arms and slung them round his neck, while he wrapped his arms round her waist. Her hands slid up in his luxuriant curls and she tugged, earning her an erotic moan. Her brain melted when his hard, warm tongue met hers.

She was breathing hard––as _he_ was, she noted––when they pulled apart. She slowly opened her eyes to Sherlock Holmes gazing down at her with the tenderest expression she had ever seen on him. "W-was that a birthday present too?"

He chuckled. "Yes. Although, to be perfectly honest, I've been wanting to do that for a while," he replied in a husky voice. He smiled at her before clearing his throat. "I'm starving. Did you leave me any penne?"

She burst out laughing, causing Sherlock to give her a confused look. "Actually I haven't eaten it, because I was waiting for you." She turned round and headed back to the kitchen. "Thanks for the salad, by the way."

He grabbed her wrist when she reached for the still-warm penne arrabbiata. "It's your birthday, Molly. Just sit down and let me serve you."

She sat back, while he pulled out plates from her cupboard and dished up nearly half of the penne arrabbiata onto her plate. She listened with a huge smile on her face as he regaled her with his account of the killer's arrest and with his deductions of his fellow passengers on the flight back to London. She pretended to pout and huff when he refused her help in cleaning up after their late dinner. She giggled when he kissed her again and carried her to her bedroom.

Later in bed, she stroked the pendant of her new necklace as she revelled in the feel of his arm round her waist and his warm body against her back.

 _Looks like the only agenda for my day off tomorrow is spending it in bed with Sherlock Holmes_ , Molly thought before sleep finally claimed her.

* * *

 _I honestly didn't know that you could keep takeaway food warm in the microwave oven._

 _And Sherlock totally kicked Toby out of Molly's bedroom before he gave her the third birthday present (*_ _wink wink_ _*)_

 _Please visit my AO3 page (LadySolitaire83) if you'd like to see the links to my references._

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	2. Day 2

**DAY 2: IN MY WILDEST DREAMS**

 **29 August 2016**

 **Summary: Molly needs books about pirates to complete her homework, but they have all been checked out. (Kid AU/Kid!lolly)**

 **A/N: Inspired by geekyangie's Tumblr post. I did change the 'narwhal' on her post to––surprise!––'pirates'.**

 **Molly is nine years old here, while Sherlock is two years older.**

 **It's my first time writing kid!lolly, so please be gentle with the constructive criticism. But I had a lot of fun writing a glimpse of Molly's BAMF self. So I hope y'all enjoy this one!**

 **Rating: G**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

"I'm sorry, but all books on pirates have been checked out," Ms Carter told the auburn-haired girl on a late Friday afternoon.

"Again?" the girl angrily whispered, her eyes wide and blazing. "That _can't_ be possible!"

Mrs Hooper squeezed the girl's shoulders in sympathy. "It's all right, Molly. We should have just bought the books you need—"

Softly growling in frustration, Molly turned to her mother. "But, Mum, that's _exactly_ why I wanted to borrow the books. Since Dad's sick and not working, I don't want us to spend anything on this _stupid_ homework." She tightly clenched her fists. "Argh! Why does he––because it's _obviously_ a boy––need _all_ the pirate books in London? Why is he _so_ selfish?" She fisted her hands on her hips. "You know what? I don't even know him, but I already loathe him!"

Ms Carter rested her arms on the counter and clasped her hands together. "I'm sorry to hear about your dad." She flashed the girl a kind smile when Molly whispered her thanks. "Perhaps I can find other books to help you with this homework. I take it you were assigned this pirate story?"

Molly took a deep breath, the angry red on her cheeks fading. "Yeah. My teacher, Mrs Blake, is just _obsessed_ with pirates. So, every year, she picks one kid to write a short story about them. Anyway, on my way out after she told us about the assignment, she asked me what I was planning to write. I told her I'd probably write a story about a princess or doctor or something based on _The Silmarillion_. Then she said, 'How about writing a pirate story for me?' So I _have_ to write one, or she'll probably fail me."

"And you don't like pirate stories very much, do you?"

"W-well, they're OK." She sighed and held her hands in front of her. "I guess I just haven't read much about pirates. Honestly, I'd much rather write a story about princesses and doctors. Or princess-doctors!"

Ms Carter shared a good-natured chuckle with Molly's mother before smiling at the girl. "You know what? Princess-doctors are very interesting too and don't appear in many stories."

"I don't think I've actually read any story about princess-doctors," Molly added with a disappointed frown and little creases on her forehead.

"Well, why don't you add a princess-doctor—or two—in your pirate story?" suggested Mrs Hooper.

"Yes," the librarian agreed. "It's entirely possible that a pirate kidnaps a princess-doctor, who stands up to him and shows him how angry a princess-doctor could be."

"Oh!" Molly's eyes widened with wonder and joy, as if a light bulb appeared above her head. "And then he tells her that the king is being corrupt and evil, and he shows her proof. So she joins his ship and becomes their doctor. Then the princess-doctor and the pirate get married and have babies after years of being friends. And then they'll live happily ever after!"

Ms Carter nodded and gave Molly and her mother a happy smile. "Wow. That sounds like a great story!"

Blushing, she looked up at her mother. "What do you think, Mum?"

"I like it! But do they really have to get married and have babies? Is pairing them up _really_ necessary?"

"Well, no, not really. But they're both beautiful and clever and brave and kind and they're excellent friends, so it makes sense for them to like each other. She makes him want to be a better person, and he does the same with her. So they fall in love, get married, and have a few babies!"

Her mother gave a quiet laugh. "All right, when you put it that way…" She smiled at Ms Carter and then at the girl. "Good job, Molls!"

"Thanks, Mum!" Molly grinned at her before turning to the librarian. "Um, do you have a historical book that mentions pirates? Even one that isn't for kids?"

Ms Carter pulled back and looked at her records. "That book is checked out but is due tomorrow." She turned her attention back to Molly. "Why don't you come back tomorrow afternoon? I should have it then."

Nodding, Molly looked up at her mother. "Is that OK, Mum?"

"Yeah. We'll drop by while Dad's at his doctor's appointment. Your brother will just have to stay with Dad in the hospital." She turned to the librarian. "We should be here by one o'clock."

"Perfect. Give me a minute, and I'll grab a book that doesn't actually mention pirates but is about that time period. That way, you can start on your story tonight and add the pirate stuff later."

"Thanks, Ms Carter."

The previously seething nine-year-old girl's smile warmed the librarian's heart and brought a happy grin to her face.

* * *

The next day, Ms Carter was talking to a boy and his father when Molly and her mother arrived. "Is this OK with you, Billy?" The librarian smiled at the girl, who responded with a cheerful grin as she stood next to the lanky, curly-haired boy.

He glanced at Molly and looked her up and down, the corner of his mouth slightly turning up. Clearing his throat, he turned to the librarian and nodded. "Yes, Ms Carter, it's fine. The pirate room in my mind palace is nearly full now anyway."

Ms Carter grinned approvingly at Billy. "Wow! How did you know about memory palaces?"

"My older brother taught me. He helped me build the pirate room. I've also started to build my science room, my Redbeard room, violin room, and martial arts room."

The librarian knitted her eyebrows together. "I'm sorry, but what or who is Redbeard?"

"Oh, he's the family dog," Mr Holmes replied.

"No, Dad. He's mine!" Billy heaved a frustrated huff and rolled his eyes. He turned to Ms Carter. "He's my Irish setter and my first mate. He's—" He raised an eyebrow at Molly, who was intently staring at him. "Do I know you?"

The girl shook her head. "No, actually. I-I'm only wondering if you're the boy that keeps checking out the pirate books?"

Knitting his eyebrows together, Billy stared at Molly as if to examine her. "Well, yeah. Who are you?"

"Billy," Ms Carter spoke before the girl either verbally or physically attacked the slightly older boy, "she's Molly. She's––"

"Ah. She's the girl who _loathes_ me," the boy stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

The angry flush on Molly's cheeks returned. "Only because you're keeping me from starting my homework!" she replied, clenching her fists at her sides. "I couldn't do my research because you were keeping _all_ the pirate books to yourself!" She glared at Billy as if she could barely suppress the urge to slap him. She even irritably shook off her mother's hand on her shoulder.

"Oh." Glancing at his slightly worried father, he looked down and scratched the back of his neck. When he looked back up, his sheepish expression surprised everyone watching him. "I apologise," he said in a contrite tone. "I didn't know that someone needed the books more than I do." He glanced at Ms Carter, whose eyes darted between the children. "While I was loath to do so, I've returned the books, so you should be able to finish your homework." He smirked at her. "I reckon it's due on Monday?"

Molly's features softened a bit, and she took a deep breath. She returned the boy's smile. "Y-yes. I have an outline and everything, and I started the short story last night." She tucked strands of hair behind an ear and shoved a hand into her dress pocket.

"What's your story about?"

"It's about a beautiful and clever princess-doctor, who gets kidnapped by a handsome and kind pirate. She yells at him and threatens to have him hanged until he shows her proof that her father, who's the king, took the kingdom's gold and used it on his political allies and concubines. So she gets mad at her father instead and joins the pirate's ship. Then she becomes the doctor for the whole ship. And then––"

Billy rolled his eyes and raised his hand. "Let me guess: the princess and the pirate get married in the end?" he asked in a bored and disappointed tone.

Molly knitted her eyebrows together and gave the boy an annoyed look. "First of all, she's a princess- _doctor_. Second of all, yeah. But I'm not making them get married just because they happen to be a boy and a girl. I mean, they're going to be friends and then best friends before they realise that they want to marry each other."

"How are you going to cover all that in a short story?"

"I didn't start from when the pirate kidnapped her. The story starts a few years after she comes aboard the ship."

"I see," Billy replied with a nod. "Did you bring what you've written so far?"

She glanced down at her bag and smiled at him, her fury completely gone. "Yep! Why?"

The boy shrugged. "I'd be happy to help you with the pirate stuff. My mum and dad would say that it's the least I could do after keeping you from completing your homework."

"Well, apology accepted. Ms Carter found a book that helped me with the historical stuff though."

Billy knitted his eyebrows together. "Are you sure? I've stored everything I could find about pirates in my mind palace. I could be an enormous help." He glanced at his father, who was chatting with Mrs Hooper. "My dad could drop you off if your mum says it's OK."

Molly glanced at her mother and shook her head as she looked up at the boy. "I'm sorry, I can't. We have to get back to my dad in the hospital soon. But could you read what I've done so far and correct the pirate stuff afterwards?"

Billy shrugged. "I could do that." He smiled at the girl. "Better yet, since you have to leave soon, we could exchange phone numbers, so I could answer questions you may have."

Molly stared at him for a few moments. She finally nodded and flashed him a shy smile. "OK. I'll check with my mum first. If she says it's all right, then I'll give you our phone number. Deal?" She extended her hand towards him.

Billy slowly raised his hand to shake her proffered one. "Deal."

* * *

 _I didn't go to school in the UK, so I took a lot of creative licence while I was writing this. Sorry. ¯\\_(_ _ツ_ _)_/¯_

 _I really love Ms Carter, my new OC. If I ever write another kid!lock or kid!lolly fic, I'll definitely do my best to include her again._

 _Here's the link to the inspiration: geekyangie(*)tumblr(*)com(/)post(/)142310472291(/)imagine(-)your(-)otp. [Just change the asterisks to dots.]_

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	3. Day 4

**DAY 4: FLYING SOLO**

 **31 August 2016**

 **Summary: Molly spends the day with minimal human interaction to mark an important anniversary.**

 **A/N: I didn't get to write a crossover fic for Day 3. Sorry.**

 **While Molly mentions and communicates with people in this fic, they don't physically appear. Well, except for the cab driver (who hopefully gets a pass because they're 'invisible,' according to Jeff Hope, right?).**

 **This one's a bit sad.** **There's also slight Sherlolly in here. But what else is new?**

 **Rating: G**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Molly got Sherlock's text in the cab ride home. Sighing, she read his message and tapped out a reply.

 ** _I'm fine. Let's talk tomorrow, OK?_ – xMolly**

Three dots immediately danced in the grey bubble. They disappeared just as quickly.

She heaved a sigh of relief. To be safe, she composed a text to both John and Mary.

 ** _Hi. Could you do me a favour and bring Adele to Baker Street today? Sherlock might need a good distraction. I'll explain tomorrow. Thanks._ – xMolly**

The cab stopped in front of her building, and she paid the driver. She hurried inside and towards the lift, thankful that the lobby was empty. When the lift doors opened, she headed straight to the corner and prayed that no one would join her in the ride up to her floor. She shut her eyes and rested her head against the wall. She stayed that way until her mobile beeped.

 ** _Of course. No problem. We're now on our way to Baker Street. Take care, Molly._ – Mary Watson**

The photo of a peacefully sleeping Adele that Mary attached made Molly smile. She was about to reply to her friend's text when the lift doors opened. She slowly walked towards her door as she typed on her phone.

 ** _She's so cute! Give her many, many kisses for me, will you? Thanks, Mary. :)_ – xMolly**

She was unsurprised to find Toby dozing on her bed when she opened her bedroom door. Shaking her head, she sat on her bed to take off her black kitten heels. She shed her midnight blue cardigan and black dress and changed into a faded grey shirt with the words 'Quiet Please: Molecular Biologist at Work' printed on the left breast and a pair of green pyjamas. She slipped on her plum fleece hoodie before grabbing her fluffiest socks from the drawer. She was pulling on the socks when she noticed that Toby was awake and watching her. "Hi, Tobes. Good nap?"

The cat rose and padded towards her. Softly meowing, he tapped her arm with his paw.

She petted him on the head. "Are you asking me if I'm all right?" She pulled her cat onto her lap and embraced him. "Awww, thanks, Toby. I'm OK." She let him go when he yelped, and she watched him run out of her bedroom.

She grabbed her mobile from the purse that she left on the bed and checked her messages. Relieved that no one had sent her anything, she set it on vibrate and put it in her hoodie's pocket. Then she rose and followed Toby into the kitchen.

After making herself a cup of tea, she grabbed a red photo album on her way to the couch. She sat on one end, leaning back against the cushions and placing the album on her lap. She sipped some tea and rubbed Toby, who had moved next to her, behind his ear. She took a deep breath before setting her cup of tea on the coffee table and flipping open the album.

Taped to the inside front cover was the last Hooper family Christmas card sent out before her dad got sick. Her parents, her older sister, and she wore that year's 'winning' ugly sweater design––an atrocious red, gold, and green number with Father Christmas, Mother Christmas, and Rudolph in the centre. That was her design, which her sister, Betty, had called 'stupid and childish'. But their parents had defended her and voted for it; they even got the family dog, Maui, to vote with them. As a result, Betty did not speak to her for a week.

Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket and read her sister's message.

 ** _Remember when Dad wore your ugly Christmas sweater to work and insisted that everyone should take a photo of him in the sweater? He was such an adorable nerd._ – BHoC**

 ** _Yeah, I remember. I miss our dork of a dad too._ – xMolly**

 ** _Have you seen Mum's Facebook post?_ – BHoC**

 ** _Not yet. Did it make you cry?_ – xMolly**

 ** _Yep! It even made Mitch cry! Poor man had to play one of his violent video games to feel manly again. *rolls eyes*_ – BHoC**

 ** _Yikes. Better get the Kleenex then. Give my love to Mitch and the kids, Betty Boop._ – xMolly**

 ** _Do not call me that, dammit! *shudders* Say hello to your detective from us, Mollykins._ – BHoC**

 ** _He's not mine. But I'll say hello to him for you anyway. TTYL, Betty Boop._ – xMolly**

Ignoring Betty's demands to stop using the name she gave herself when she was 11 and Molly was nine, she replaced the mobile in her pocket. She asked herself if she wanted to bawl her eyes out while looking at her dad's photos or after reading her mum's Facebook post.

She flipped through the pages until she found her photo with her dad at his workplace for their Bring Your Child to Work Day. She remembered not sleeping well the night before in her excitement. She also remembered deciding that day that she was going to be a scientist. Her dad had been thrilled to hear that and encouraged her to pursue molecular biology, up until he passed away.

"I hope he's proud of me, even if I ended up in pathology and medicine instead of in molecular biology," she muttered to herself.

She resumed flipping through the album until she reached the last page, onto which a large photo of her parents on their wedding day was glued. Her mum and dad had been so happy and looked so in love with each other. Their deep love and positive outlook never wavered despite having two children, her mum losing her job as a maths teacher at the primary school, her mum starting and building a student tutorial business, and her dad receiving his lung cancer diagnosis. Everybody that knew them admired their relationship and often wondered how they kept their love burning. Her mum usually replied that they celebrated every victory and blessing and worked through every trial and challenge. Her dad added that having different temperaments kept their marriage interesting and fresh.

"If Dad hadn't died and they stayed married, they'd be what the kids today would call 'relationship goals'. I'm not sure they'd have agreed with that, but they'd still probably like the term," she told Toby. "They'd be posting it all over Facebook, and it would be so cringeworthy that Betty would probably threaten to quit social media." She smirked. "That would've been amazing to see."

Molly wondered how her dad would think of Sherlock. Would he like the consulting detective? Would her dad warn her of the challenges of (hypothetically) marrying a former junkie? Would the two men start discussing their respective fields of science and end up talking about biochemistry? Would they get along?

"Dad would probably tease us and ask us why we're not married yet, even if we've been acting like a married couple. He'd probably refer to Sherlock as my husband and to me as his wife." She smirked as she imagined the consulting detective buffering upon hearing that. "Oh, that would make a great story for our relatives and descendants."

She finally closed the photo album and returned it to the bookshelf. She carried her laptop to the couch and went on Facebook. The first thing she saw was her mum's emotional post about missing her late husband. She reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table after reading the first sentence.

After 'hearting' her mum's post and drying her tears, Molly wondered how else she was going to mark her dad's 25th death anniversary. She had already visited his tomb at the cemetery. She was already looking through photos and reminiscing about the past, like her sister had done. She was unsure if she should post something on Facebook or Instagram about it, like her mum had done.

In the end, she logged back in to her blog, which she abandoned after she found out the truth about Moriarty. Now, she wrote about how much she missed her dad, how his diagnosis affected her, how he influenced many of her life choices, and how she hoped that her dad would be proud of her and her accomplishments. She did not care about how long the post got or how she rambled for a bit. _Let Sherlock and other grammar nerds pick the spelling and grammar apart._ She was sobbing again by the time she finished the draft. She looked it over a few times. Once satisfied with it, she published the post.

She was already in bed when she received a text from Sherlock.

 ** _Just finished reading your blog post about your late father. Would you like me to comfort you?_ – SH**

 ** _No need to do that, but thanks for asking. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good night, Sherlock._ – xMolly**

Molly did not wait for his reply. But she was sure that, when she woke in the middle of the night, Sherlock would be holding her close as he lay or slept next to her. And she was completely fine with that.

* * *

 _Hope this wasn't too sad for y'all._

 _I do hope the slight Sherlolly is OK. It's really just Molly wondering about what her father would think of her feelings for and her complicated relationship with Sherlock. The interactions between them here can be interpreted as platonic anyway._

 _Also, Molly's sister's signature stands for 'Betty Hooper-O'Connor'._

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	4. Day 5

**DAY 5: BEST FRIENDS FOREVER**

 **1 September 2016**

 **Summary: Molly is called to 221B Baker Street when Mary is physically hurt.**

 **A/N: I've always wanted to write Molly and Mary as friends. While I did write them as BFFs in** _ **Your Worst Fears**_ **, it's more of an AU because I wrote that before Series 3 came out. So I wanted to write them as friends that's more adherent to BBC canon. I also included a brief scene between Molly and Mrs Hudson, because… Well, why the hell not? Anyhoo, I hope y'all enjoy this one!**

 **Rating: T, for references to physical violence, some swearing, and suggestive teasing/joking. *** _ **wink wink**_ *****

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Molly smiled when Mrs Hudson, who was carrying baby Adele in her arms, opened the front door. "Hello, you two," she greeted as she crossed the threshold. She kissed the landlady on her cheek and the baby on her forehead. "Um, where's Mary?" she asked as she closed the door behind her.

"She's upstairs, dear." Mrs Hudson gave her a worried look. "She doesn't look so bad, but it sort of scared Adele. Thank goodness the baby wasn't with her when it happened."

She nodded. "I think it'd be better or safer if Adele stayed with you in your flat."

Mrs Hudson smiled. "That's the plan! Go on up. The baby and I will be just fine."

"Thanks." She watched them head to the elderly woman's flat. "And please don't open the door unless you know who it is and you're expecting them," she added.

"Duly noted!" Mrs Hudson replied before they disappeared behind her flat door.

Taking a deep breath, Molly ascended the stairs and found Mary treating the cuts on her face in front of the mirror above the fireplace.

Mary stopped what she was doing and heaved a deep sigh of relief as she turned. "There you are. I'm almost done with these cuts. I just need you to check if my ribs are bruised or broken and help me treat them."

Before she could resume treating herself, Molly gently took her shoulders. "Why don't you let me deal with your injuries while you tell me what happened?"

Mary stared at her for a few moments before she slowly lowered herself to John's old armchair.

Molly moved Sherlock's chair closer and sat down on it. "Could you lift your shirt for me?" She lightly ran her hands over her friend's ribcage when she complied. "I don't feel huge protrusions, so I think you've only got bruised ribs. At least they're not broken." She raised her arms. "Yay!"

Mary laughed briefly. "Ow," she muttered with a wince.

Molly rose to get something frozen from Sherlock's fridge and a towel from the bathroom. "I couldn't find any pain reliever in Sherlock's medicine cabinet. I'll ask Mrs Hudson later, all right?" She wrapped the bag of ice in the towel and handed it to her friend.

Nodding, Mary took it and laid it over her injured ribs. "Or she'll probably offer her herbal soothers," she remarked.

"Not sure those would help though," she replied as she took the first aid kit from the mantel. After treating the remaining cuts on her friend's face, she gently took Mary's hands and inspected the cuts on her knuckles. "I see you've cleaned them. Any excessive bleeding?"

Mary shook her head. "There's also not much dirt. Just a bit of oil and sweat, because the bugger who attacked me had a really oily face."

"Had?" she asked as she applied antibiotic ointment to the cuts.

The nurse slightly smirked. "Don't worry. He was definitely still breathing when I left him."

"Did…" Molly began as she plastered the cuts on the other woman's knuckles. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Did this attack have something to do w-with your past?" Despite keeping her head down and focusing on treating her friend's wounds, she could still feel Mary's eyes on her.

"He wasn't a target's loved one. I think this was just a random mugging. He really, really just wanted to take my wallet." Mary chuckled. "When did Sherlock tell you?"

Flushing in embarrassment, Molly glanced up at her. "When he was at the hospital, after he escaped. Honestly, I think he only told me, because it took his mind off the pain." She smirked. "I had to turn up his morphine's dosage, because he didn't want me to slap him again."

Mary laughed. "Have I told you how astounding that was, by the way? I was even more surprised that he took your slaps silently! Until, of course, he decided to be an arse. Although I think he only did that to hide the fact that he was turned on."

Molly looked up with her mouth open in shock. "Mary Watson!" she exclaimed. "I can see another reason John likes you," she remarked with a wink at her friend, who only giggled and shrugged her shoulders. "He was with Janine! Plus I don't think he swings _my_ way."

"It was a fake relationship to him. And I think he does like you that way. John told me how Sherlock almost broke Mycroft's arm later for something less physically violent. Even when he was high, he was still kinder to you than to his own brother. And I saw him sort of caress his cheeks after you slapped him." She winked at Molly, making her blush.

"What else did he tell you?" Mary asked after a brief silence.

"That you used to be an assassin and that you changed your identity when you left that life. That you shot Sherlock when he interrupted you from killing Magnussen, who knew who you were. That you were afraid to lose John and everything you've worked for since quitting your old job. That you asked Sherlock not to tell John what he discovered but John found out anyway."

"And how do you feel about that? Especially the bit about Sherlock being shot by me?"

Molly finished treating the cuts on her friend's knuckles and gently laid them on Mary's lap. "Well, I totally understand wanting to shoot Sherlock. There have been times when I wanted to do it myself." She chuckled, and her friend joined her. "But seriously… Any assassin worth their salt knows to shoot a person in the head to ensure they're dead. But you didn't; you shot him in the chest. Yes, he required surgery, but he's more likely to survive a gunshot wound in the chest than in the head. And he did survive. He also forgave you."

"And you're all right with that?"

"Sherlock getting shot? Fuck, no. I almost had a heart attack when I found out, and I wanted to kick the arse of his shooter. But you get a pass here. You were scared and you had to decide really quickly. You did what you had to do in this case. But please don't hurt Sherlock again. You can always deal with his arsehole ways without sending him to A&E or the operating theatre. But if you kill someone that's trying to harm you and your family because of your past, just text me and I'll help you properly dispose of the body. That's what friends are for, right?"

Mary gave her a half-relieved and hopeful look. "So we're still friends?"

"Of course. I wouldn't come here if we weren't." She smiled at Mary, who looked as if a huge burden was lifted from her shoulders. "Any other injuries?"

She shook her head. "He only got lucky with my face and my ribs, because he took me by surprise. I mean, I wasn't expecting to be mugged on my way home from work. And John and I were texting, so I was distracted and didn't notice the fucker."

"Texting, eh?" Molly teased, waggling her eyebrows. "Speaking of John, are the boys on their way home from Glasgow?"

"No, not yet. They discovered something new that's baffling them right now. I was mugged before John could tell me what. But Sherlock's torn between kicking himself for not noticing whatever it is before and celebrating that the case got even more exciting."

Mary's mobile rang. Before the former assassin could stand, Molly fetched it from the mantel and handed it to her. "It's John."

"He must be worried because I wasn't replying," she said as she took the phone.

"I'll leave you two to talk. I'll bug Mrs Hudson and Adele for a bit. I'll also get some ibuprofen and tea. Just give me a shout if you need anything, all right? And don't move a muscle, Mary Watson," she firmly ordered.

"Yes, Dr Hooper." Mary smirked. "You know, if you use that tone on Sherlock, you'll probably have him naked in a jiffy."

"Shut up!" she retorted as she ran down to spend time with her elderly friend and her goddaughter.

* * *

 _I'm still laughing my butt off because of the ending. Mary is a total Sherlolly shipper._

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	5. Day 6

**DAY 6: NOTHING GREATER THAN TRUE LOVE**

 **2 September 2016**

 **Summary: Molly returns to Sherlock after an unplanned trip.**

 **A/N: I only ship Molly with one other** _ **Sherlock**_ **character so, obviously, this is a Sherlolly fic.**

 **Since I didn't get to write a fic for Day 3 (crossovers), I decided to include a tiny bit of FRINGE here. Neither Cortexiphan nor time travel is required though. Hope y'all like this one!**

 **Rating: G**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

" _I'm sorry I can't." She kissed him on the cheek before running through the marble archway towards the blue light._

Molly woke with a gasp. Scanning the room, she was glad to see that she was in their bedroom. _How did I get here?_ She slowly sat up and looked at her green floral sundress. _I wore this yesterday to work. Sherlock and I were supposed to go to lunch, and I wanted to look and feel pretty._ She swung her legs to the side of the bed and shut her eyes, trying to remember what happened. _But five minutes before he was supposed to pick me up, Sherlock texted me that he caught a case––which wasn't exactly new. Still a bit disappointing. Then I found myself wishing that Sherlock were a different kind of boyfriend. That he was a man, who would sometimes rather have a lunch date with his girlfriend than take a case. Then I walked through this really odd archway or something, and I found myself in––_

"Molly!" a surprised but incredibly relieved baritone interrupted her thoughts.

She looked up and smiled at the sight of Sherlock–– _her_ Sherlock. She stood and ran to him, wrapping her arms round his neck and burying her face in the crook of his neck. Her heart warmed at the feeling of his arms that were holding her body flush against his. She inhaled his scent and almost wept at the fact that it was the _right_ combination of his natural scent, his cologne, and (unsurprisingly) cigarettes. She pulled back and kissed him deeply.

When they regrettably pulled apart, Sherlock's hands tenderly cupped her face and stared at her. He caressed her cheeks, as if he could not believe that she was real. "Molly, what the hell happened to you? You've been missing for nearly two days!"

Her eyes widened at his words. "What?!"

"Yes. You disappeared from Barts during your lunch break. No one saw you leave, you didn't clock off, and your tote bag was still in your office. Even _Mycroft_ couldn't find you! Did someone take you? Did they hurt you?" He swept his eyes over her.

She nearly wept again at the worry on his face and in his voice. "N-no, no one took me and no one hurt me. But you're not going to believe what happened to me."

"Don't be silly. Of course I'll believe you."

She took his hand and guided him towards the bed. She made him sit down before taking the spot next to him. She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "I was slightly upset that you took a case when we were supposed to have lunch together. So I made a little wish that you were, amongst other things, the kind of boyfriend that would choose a lunch date with me over a case. Yes, it was stupid of me, I know. Anyway, my head was down as I was walking towards the lifts, and I barely glanced at this archway that I've never seen before at Barts. I walked through it and then found myself face-to-face with you––well, the you from a parallel universe."

"Parallel universe?" he slowly repeated, the doubt in his tone unmistakable. "So, what, did he sweep you off your feet and indulge in public displays of affection that even made _your_ patients feel uncomfortable?"

She shook her head. "No, no, not like that. He didn't bring flowers or anything, and he didn't snog me senseless in the corridor. At first glance, nothing was different from how _you_ 'd pick me up for dates. But he took my hand and held it all the way to the deli. He also listened to my mundane work stories and, I mean, _actually_ listened. He was affectionate and politely declined when his fans asked to take photos with him. He gave me all of his attention. Honestly, he was the perfect boyfriend."

Her Sherlock sulkily attempted to get his hand out of her grasp, but she did not let him go. "What else did he do? Is he better at sex too?"

"I didn't have sex with him. He may look like you, sound like you, and sometimes act like you, but he's still not you." She gave him a small smile. "And that's exactly why I walked through that archway again."

She waited for him to say something, but he only pouted at her.

"See, his Molly was killed by someone he put in jail before he could tell her that he cared about her. Only when she died did he figure out that he loved her. So when a woman who looks like his Molly, sounds like his Molly, and sometimes acts like his Molly suddenly showed up at Barts, he thought that his deepest desire––for her to be alive again––had come true. He jumped at the chance to show _me_ how much he loves his Molly. But that other Molly had a slightly different life, and she made different choices. I am not the Molly that he knew. I am not the Molly that he loved."

His eyes softened as her message began to sink in. "And he's not the Sherlock that you know and love." He gathered her in his arms and kissed the top of her head as she wrapped her arms round his waist. "I'm sorry for being an arse and choosing a case––which turned out to be an easy but disappointing four––over you."

"Actually I'm the one that should be apologising. I shouldn't be upset that you love your work so much. That's one of the things I love about you. I shouldn't be whining and wishing that you were a different man. That was wrong of me, and I'm sorry, Sherlock. I love you so much, and I'll never trade you for anybody." She raised her head to kiss him.

He smiled down at her. "Even if he's my parallel universe counterpart?"

" _Especially_ if they're your counterpart in _any_ parallel universe." She laid her head on his shoulder. "Do you forgive me?"

"Of course. Do _you_ forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive. You didn't do anything wrong," she insisted.

He groaned in exasperation. "All right then." He cleared his throat. "Would you like to see your friends, who were so worried about you? I don't know if you saw or heard, but John and Mary know you're here and announced it to everyone in the sitting room. And I bet they're eager to see you and talk to you."

"Who's here?"

"Besides the Watsons and Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Anderson, Donovan, Meena, Stamford, and even Mycroft and Anthea. My parents also demanded to be notified once you're found."

She rose from the bed and took his hand. "Do you think they'll believe me when I tell them that I accidentally went to a parallel universe?"

Standing up, he shrugged his shoulders. "Probably not, although that's the best explanation so far for the facts. Even if they don't, I think they know better than to give you grief about it." He kissed the back of her hand.

"I bet Mycroft would believe me," Molly remarked, to which Sherlock nodded in agreement.

* * *

 _Just a note on continuity: Molly thought that it's only been a day since she crossed to the parallel universe. She didn't know that it's been 47 hours._

 _The first few drafts included a proposal, but it felt like that boyfriend of an Olympic athlete that made his girlfriend's medal win about himself. So I removed it._

 _The parallel universe story might sound familiar to some of y'all. Hint: I was also emotionally compromised when I wrote and posted that one. (It's_ Save You _.)_

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	6. Day 7

**DAY 7: FREE FOR ALL**

 **3 September 2016**

 **Summary: Sherlock finds Molly reading fan fiction at 4am.**

 **A/N: I got the idea from the 'All-Nighters AU' submission to shittyaus on Tumblr. This is really just a cracky thing that got smuttier as I worked on it. So this is totally NSFW. Hope y'all like this one!**

 **Rating: Explicit**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Molly raised an eyebrow when she heard a noise coming from the front hall. _Only one person would come here at four o'clock in the morning._ She glanced at Toby, who was sleeping next to her, and rubbed behind his ear. Listening to her guest's footsteps, she noted that they halted in the kitchen before resuming towards her bedroom. Shaking her head, she lowered her eyes to her iPad and continued reading.

Her door swung open, and she could feel her guest's gaze on her. "Why are you still up?"

She glanced up at the consulting detective and smiled. "Couldn't sleep. What are you doing here?"

Sherlock looked round, avoiding her eyes. "I was hungry after finishing a case, and your flat's nearby." He bit into his slice of pizza as he approached the bed.

"There's literally a 24-hour deli across the street," she pointed out as she rolled her eyes. She reached the end of the webpage and pressed the 'Next Chapter' button.

He moved an angry Toby to the floor and plopped himself down on the bed. "I was in the mood for pizza."

"You don't even like vegetarian pizza."

"Well, I'm so famished that I'll eat anything," he replied while chewing his food. "What are you reading?"

Flushing, she cleared her throat and softly groaned, especially when she felt him scoot closer. "The filthiest erotica you could ever think of." She hoped he would go into buffering mode and let her finish what she was reading before things got weird.

"Really?" He snatched the iPad from her hands and scanned the page she was on as he blocked her attempts to take her tablet back. He turned to her with eyes as wide as saucers. "You're reading fan fiction about _us_?!" He scrolled up and down the page. "Do we have sex in this story?"

She lunged for her iPad and wiped the screen with the hem of her top once she was back in her spot. "Not in this one. I just decide to go to your flat after a friend's hen party. I, uh, basically pass out drunk in your arms, and you carry me to your bed so I could sleep more comfortably."

"And then what? Do we ravish each other after you've recovered a bit?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, we don't have sex in this one." She sat back and turned to him. "Why do you keep talking about fictional Sherlock and Molly shagging anyway? Do you want to read fanfics where we do?"

He pulled his mobile out of his jacket pocket and, soon, he was on the same site that Molly was on. "I'm just, you know, curious." He cleared his throat and stared intently at his phone. "You wouldn't believe how many times Janine has sent me links to filthy stories about John and me. I can't decide if she's still angry with me and it's one of her 'occasional top-ups' or if she genuinely wants John and I to copulate."

"Do you read them?"

"I read one. I didn't like it very much. The author didn't get my kinks right."

She set her iPad on her lap and stared at Sherlock. "Your kinks?" She was torn between hoping that he would tell her what they were and not wanting to know.

He only smirked at her. "What are your favourites? Stories about us, I mean."

Half-disappointed, she picked up her iPad and navigated to her bookmarked works. "There's one where we're secretly married. John doesn't figure out our relationship until after you jump from Barts. There's also one where you're sort of an angel under Moriarty's employ and you essentially save me from being his slave. We end up having sex and building a family in that fic. There's also one where we have sex at the first anniversary of your 'death,' and I end up pregnant. You don't find out that I'm pregnant until chapter 4, where we have an ugly and painful row. Then Moran kidnaps and threatens to kill me, and you save me. Then I give birth, and we become a happy little family."

"Do we get married in that one?"

"Nope. We do get engaged in the sequel. The author hasn't written the wedding story though."

"Who wrote that last one?" he asked as he typed on his phone.

"I can't remember. I'll send you the link later if you want me to."

"Do you like these stories?"

"Yeah. Many of them are quite good. Some of them are even novel-length. Our shippers, who are the people that want us together, write such exciting and imaginative plot lines. And not just in the bedroom. They've written us as characters in _Pride and Prejudice_ , _Jane Eyre_ , _Star Trek_ , _Star Wars_ , and so on. I've read some where I'm the consulting detective and you're the pathologist. I've also read some really silly and funny ones."

"What sort of bedroom adventures do they write?"

That made her laugh. "Seriously?" She turned to face him and smirked. "Do _you_ want us––the real us––to shag? Because you're weirdly interested in the fictional sex that Sherlock and Molly are having. Or do you want me to recommend sexually explicit stories?"

To her surprise, Sherlock remained silent for a few moments. Slightly pouting, he rolled his eyes and got up from the bed. "Forget it. Just finish your little fan fiction, and let's just go to bed," he dismissively said as he left the bedroom.

She shook her head and resumed reading. _It won't take long for him to get ready for bed_ , she thought. She recalled something and giggled. _Or not, considering the massive boner that he was sporting when he left._

She was already half-asleep when he returned. She rolled over to face him and opened her eyes to find him staring at her. "Do you like sex? In general, I mean."

He slowly rolled onto his side. "In general, yes. I've had sex, you know. I've just learnt to resist my sexual urges so they don't interfere with my work."

She nodded. "Does that work all the time?"

"Well, not all the time." He reached for her waist and squeezed. "Like now."

Her eyes widened. "So you _do_ want us to shag!" She giggled and gently laid her hand on his cheek. "Were you reading fictional us having sex before you came back here?!"

He swallowed hard and reluctantly nodded. "I hacked into your account and went through your bookmarks."

She loudly gasped and slapped his hand away. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes!"

"I'm sorry! I just wanted to see what kinks you have."

"You could have just asked!" She flushed before she even finished saying it.

He smirked and pulled her close. "Molly, would you like to act out the filthy stories that you've read _and_ written about us?"

Her cheeks––hell, her _face_ ––grew warmer. "Fuck you. That's not even what I meant!"

"Perhaps we'll talk about pegging later. But for now––"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" she exclaimed before she smashed their mouths together.

She soon found herself straddling him, with their tops off, and grinding her clothed core against his clothed erection. She moaned as his gigantic hands squeezed her breasts. She leant forward and kissed him as her hand slipped under his waistband. She smiled against his mouth when the lightest grasp of his shaft earned her a loud, filthy moan. "Will you still respect me in the morning?" she whispered in her sultriest voice before trailing kisses down his jaw.

It took him a moment to respond. "Of course I will. Even if I rarely show it, I've always respected you." He slipped his hand inside her knickers. "Sleeping with you won't change that." He punctuated this promise with the pad of his thumb pressing on her swollen clit, which made her moan wantonly.

"What fanfic are we acting out tonight?" she asked before she sucked on his pulse point.

Groaning in pleasure, he pressed the tip of a finger into her wet entrance. "The one where I pleasure you with my fingers during John and Mary's reception and the one with the toe thing."

"All right," she said before she removed her hands from his cock, earning her a disappointed whimper, and pulled her pyjama bottom and knickers off. She sat astride him again and played with her breasts.

"Also all the ones where we snog and make love a lot." His long finger slipped into her heat. "And the ones where we end up getting married and even procreating."

She opened her eyes and stared at him in shock. "So this isn't a one-off thing?"

"I don't do one-off things anymore," he replied as another finger joined the first. "I want to do this, amongst other things, with you for as long as we live. But only if you'll have me."

She bucked her hips in time with his thrusting fingers. "You're proposing to me now?"

"Well, yes. We love each other. We're comfortable with each other. We've basically been spending nearly every free moment together for months. So why the hell not?" He punctuated every word of his question with a hard thrust.

"You love me?" She quickly stopped caring for the answer when he found her G spot and started pressing deeply into it. "Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh… Oh, God, yes!"

To her displeasure, he stopped thrusting into her. "Yes to what?"

Groaning, she forced herself to open her eyes. "Yes, I'll marry you!" She bucked her hips faster. "Now _please_ make me come."

"As you wish," he replied before bringing her off for the first time that night.

* * *

 _I haven't written smut in a while, so I hope this is decent at least._

 _I know, most of the fics I mentioned are mine. But just indulge me in this. Plus y'all need to read_ Always Something _by Emcee Frodis and_ Runaway _by MizJoely. They're only a couple of my absolute favourites._

 _Also, Molly is on Chapter 2 of_ At Last _when Sherlock barges in on her fanfic-reading time._

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


End file.
